Bonfire
by SparkHiggins
Summary: **Now Finished** This ones for you, Slider. Rated mostly for swearing, because I have a feeling Spot swears a lot. Another cute little romance out of boredom.
1. Bonfire

A/N: I was at a party and they started playing songs that reminded me of the guy I love, so I'm in a romantic mood. My last fluffy piece went over all right, so here's another. This time, though, its not about me. Slider, happy. Umm. happy happy bunnies day! This is for giving you Gray in WUAS.  
  
I stood up and pulled on my shirt. I grabbed the key on the string around my bedpost and put it around my neck. I grabbed my cane and headed out the door without even bothering to wash up. I walked towards the distribution office and grabbed my papes from the skinny man in front of me.  
  
I headed towards the Brooklyn Bridge, a personal favorite selling spot. Most people would expect it to be an easy sale, but it really wasn't. Most people had already bought their papes on the other end, but I liked the challenge. The wind started to chill my bones; December in New York was not pleasant. I handed a paper to a young gentleman with his arm wrapped around a frivolous looking girl. I tried not to laugh at the foppish couple while I sold.  
  
I thought ahead to that night, trying to forget the biting cold. I felt the warmth just thinking about the bonfire that night. Jacky-boys newsies had planned it. I think it was that eye-patch boy's idea, but I could be wrong. Maybe the heartbreaker. Or the gambler. Yeah, it was the gambler's idea. But that's not the point, the point was that tonight I would be warm. And there would be dancing, and drinking, even though I would most likely only participate in the latter.  
  
"Hey, Spot, ya comin'? Kelly's little party starts in about fifteen minutes," a voice told me a few hours later. I looked up and saw Swimmer, another of my newsies. I nodded and we walked off towards Manhattan and the bonfire.  
  
"Well if it ain't Jack-be-nimble, Jack-be-quick," I joked, using a phrase I quite often addressed him with since that day he told me they were striking two years ago. I'd just become leader back then. And in three more years I'd be passing the position on to another Brooklyn boy.  
  
"Hey there, Spot. Glad ya could make it," Jack told me, and I looked around the party. The Manhattan and Queens girl & boy lodging houses had shown up. Harlem and Long Island only had newsboys housing. A handful of Brooklyn girls were there too, but even so the ratio wasn't near even.  
  
"Spot? Spot?" Jack said, waking me out of my reverie.  
  
"Yeah, sorry. Jus' lookin' around," I told him. I walked over to the drinks and grabbed a glass, not really caring about the contents. I looked at the couples dancing, slightly jealous. I always wished I could dance, but I never learned how, and I wasn't about to admit that I didn't. So I pretended I didn't because of my badass attitude, and the stupid boys bought it.  
  
I've never been one to fall in love. It's just not my style. It's not that I mean to use girls, I've just never been into long-term relationships. Or, at least, that's how I felt until tonight. Until this moment, if you asked me if I believed in love at first sight I would have laughed my ass off. But, now I'm not too sure.  
  
I first noticed her dancing around with a couple of the other girls I'd known practically since they were born. Her body moved smoothly, with the gracefulness of a swan. A fire was present in her eyes like I hadn't seen before in my life. I felt an unfamiliar lurch in my stomach, and couldn't take my eyes off her. Her movement captivated me, and I felt compelled to look at her. She stopped and walked over to the drinks, where I was still standing.  
  
She looked at me, "So, what's yer name?"  
  
"Spot. Spot Conlon. Leadah of da Brooklyn newsies," I said trying to overcome the giant knot that had formed in my tongue. Damnit, what was with me? I'd never felt tongue-tied around a girl before.  
  
"Ah. So you're the infamous Spot Conlon." With a grin she said, "I've heard a lot about you."  
  
"Good or bad?" I asked, trusting that my "wonderful" friends had told her numerous horrible tales about me. They sure had a lot. I had a tendency to get into some stupid shit when I got drunk.  
  
"Depends on what you think is good," she taunted, refusing to give me a straight answer. "But Fingers filled me in on an interesting experience with you and some chocolate frosting."  
  
"Oh shit," I groaned. I remembered that day too well. I got drunk and covered myself in chocolate frosting and told everyone to lick it off me. Let's just say that Fingers had been slightly too interested in that. One thing led to another, and. wait, why am I telling you this?  
  
"But I've hoid some good stuff too. Like your helpin' dem in da strike of 1899 an' your reputation as the strongest and most feared newsie in all o' New York. Those boys fear ya like a good Christian fears G-d," she told me, and I sighed in relief. So my friends weren't all bad. Then, she said the words that I dreaded to hear, "Do you want to dance?"  
  
Something in her eyes, the ones that contained the passionate fire, made me want to tell her the truth. Sure, lying always made stuff worse, that was a fact of life. So I whispered in her ear, "I don't know how."  
  
"You don't know how to dance?" she whispered back, fortunately she understood why I had lowered my voice. "I tell ya what," she said when I nodded, "I'll teach ya ta dance. Sound good?"  
  
"Yeah," I told her. She walked back off to the dance floor and I watched her slither like a snake, watching her every movement intently.  
  
Shit. I was falling in love. 


	2. Dancing Lessons?

A/N: All right, you wanted more, so I give you more, despite the fact that Slider is still killing Race off. Damn her. Everyone, kill Slider. Anyway. here goes nothing.  
  
  
  
I eventually left the party with a few of my crew and headed back to the lodging house. I signed my name on the ledger and walked up to my bed. I lay down and curled up into a ball, sleeping. And dreaming. Dreaming of her.  
  
The next morning someone woke me with a jolt. It was only Roman, another boy from the lodging house. He shook me awake with a grin on his face; I knew something was up. "Jack's here on official 'Hattan business, but he has a personal note as well," he said, his smile nearly taking up his whole face. A teasing light was present in his eyes and I knew he already read the note.  
  
"So, what did it say?" I asked him. He repeatedly denied having read the notice and told me to go talk to Jack already. So I buttoned my shirt and walked down the stairs swinging my cane. "Got a note for me, Jacky- boy?"  
  
"Maybe I do," he said, jokingly holding the note out of my grasp. "What? You can't reach it? Oh, I'm sorry Spot. Entirely my bad," he taunted, and I send a quick soft punch into his stomach. It wasn't much, I didn't want to do any damage, but it got him to give up the letter.  
  
I opened it and started reading the print, which obviously belonged to a girl, as us newsboys had the most illegible penmanship known to man. The beautiful script read, "To the infamous Spot Conlon- I never got around to giving you my name last night. I'm Slider, pleased to meet you. There, the formalities have been taken care of now. About that offer I made earlier, you still interested? I could meet with you tonight at seven on the Brooklyn Bridge and we could find a private place to practice. Always, Slider Madden."  
  
"So? Who's it from? What's it say?" Jack said, with pretend interest.  
  
"Cut it out, Jack. I know you've already read it," I told him.  
  
He looked at me, "Well, yeah, you'd have to be a bum not to figure that. But what exactly is this offer? Hmmm, sounds suspicious," Jack said with raised eyebrows. I swatted at him with my cane. "I never knew Slider had such an interesting night job. The Brooklyn Bridge is quite an exotic place to--"  
  
"Shut the hell up," I told him. "Now what's this official 'Hattan business Roman mentioned? I know the great Jack Kelly didn't come up here just to deliver a letter."  
  
"Well, it goes like this." he started, and began to explain whatever that important business had been. My mind, however, was not on Jack, it was off in Manhattan following a certain girl by the name of Slider. I could see her joking around with Spark, one of the other Manhattan girls I'd known since I was fourteen and she first became a newsie. She was probably teasing Spark about that Italian gambler kid, what was his name again?  
  
"Racetrack says--" Jack was saying. Racetrack, that's it. She was most likely teasing Spark and Racetrack. After all, even I, who can't remember his name, know that those two are almost officially a couple, whether they choose to acknowledge it or not. But I wasn't thinking about Race and Spark's relationship, I was thinking about me and Slider's.  
  
"Catch all dat?" Jack wrapped up. I nodded and responded with a zombie-like yes. He looked at me, "Did you hear a word of that?"  
  
"Yes! I heard. 'Well, it goes like this' and 'Racetrack says'" I said and Jack laughed at me. We set off towards the distribution office to buy our papes, since Jack was selling in Brooklyn today. Jacky-boy may be one of my best friends, but I have to admit, I hate selling with him. And that's because he is the only guy in all of New York who can give me a run for my money on hawking headlines.  
  
At six o'clock, I had sold all my papes, so I headed back towards the lodging house. I walked over to the cracked porcelain tub filled, not with the boiling water I wished for, but water at what most have been the closest it could come to frozen without becoming a solid. I braved the cold however and washed up as best I could. I grabbed a new shirt and my hat and walked out the door towards the Brooklyn Bridge. I passed by Jack and Roman chatting as well as Karth and Swimmer, all of whom whistled and laughed their pathetic asses off at me.  
  
"Hey, you look nice tonight," a voice called out of the darkness. I turned to face in the direction of the voice.  
  
"Slider?" I asked, unsure. A group of boys erupted into laughter and I saw the suspects, a group of boys from my borough standing nearby smiling with amusement.  
  
I heard cries of "Spottie's been stood up!" and things of similar nature. I looked around me and faced the facts. Slider was just playing with my head. She was messing with my mind. She never planned on meeting me here. She stood me up. And I was a fool to play into her hands.  
  
I was a fool to fall in love.  
  
  
  
A/N: Your call. You want more? Yes or no? Review and you'll get more.  
  
Shoutouts:  
  
AaronLohrLover24- Glad you like this one. I'm on like a kick with these things. Maybe I'll do another one when this is finished. Hmm. who could I do? Perhaps a certain girl named Sprite and a guy named Mush???  
  
Raven's Wing: Yep, Spot fics are definitely some of the best. His inability to remember names came from discussions with my non-newsie- obsessed friends. When I refer to Blink I'm always like "Eye-patch boy!" and Mush is "That guy with the really great stomach" and Spot's "The sexy, sexy Brooklyn boy". Haha. I've decided to keep it going even though it will still be short, because this is my random for-no-particular-holiday gift to Slider.  
  
Disclaimer: Oh, I forgot this. As much as I know you all want to sue my ass, you no longer can. Newsies and all the original characters are property of Disney (lucky bastards!), but I did steal Race and lock him in a closet. He now has a collar (that ones for you, Keza). Slider is property of herself (and of course the infamous happy bunnies). I do, however, own that sexay beast by the name of Spark (a.k.a. moi). LOL. 


	3. Still Want To Go?

A/N: Don't worry, that wasn't the end. I'm not that mean to Spot!! Sorry this is super short, but there is still more to come and I have a lot to do tonight. I promise I will post again on Feb. 20 when my history projects and poems are all in. (  
I trudged into the empty bunkroom and lay down on my bed. The rest of the boys were out at for a performance at the Brooklyn vaudeville theatre to watch the show, so I was alone. I curled into a ball and cried, trying to fall asleep.  
  
As I reached the point right between consciousness and sleep I heard a sound. I shrugged it off, thinking it would go away, but it repeated. Soft raps on glass like a pebble hitting a window. I stood up and walked over to the window at the end of the room.  
  
"Come down here," a voice whispered. I grabbed my shirt (a/n: Spot never seems to have a shirt on, does he? Oh well, no complaints) and silently ran down the stairs and out the door. "Took you long enough," the voice said, and I could tell it was a girl.  
  
"Sorry. But wait, who is this?" I asked, not being able to see her face in the darkness.  
  
"Guess," she said playfully and I thought. I knew who I thought it was instantly. Or at least who I wished it was.  
  
"Slider?" I asked wishfully.  
  
"That's my name," she said, and I sighed in relief. "Sorry I didn't show earlier, Spark got into a fight with one of the Delancy's and I had to help clean her up. You still up for some dance lessons?"  
  
"Definitely," I said happily. "Is Spark alright?" I asked, more out of duty then concern. It wasn't that I didn't care about Spark, but I knew she could hold her own. I was more concerned about what would happen between Slider and me.  
  
"Oh, yeah she's fine. You want to go to Central Park? Some of the hoity-toity gents are havin' an outdoor party and I think if we're far enough off we can hear the music without them noticin' us," she suggested.  
  
"Of course, let's go," I told her and we walked off towards Central Park.  
Too tired to do shout-outs but I have one thing to say.  
  
Sprite- I will do one for you and Mush as soon as possible. 


	4. It Felt Good

"One second, I'se gonna stop at the lodgin' house for a skirt so I look more like 'dem other goils. You'se got a jacket?" she asked me as we walked.  
  
"Nope, sorry," I apologized. She looked downtrodden for a minute but her eyes lit up again quickly.  
  
"Dat's alright. Jacky's got one. We'll 'borrow' it for now," she said.  
  
"Jacky-boy's got a suit jacket?" I asked in disbelief  
  
"Yeah, for when he takes out dat Sarah goil." I shook my head in understanding and we walked to the Manhattan lodging house. Slider ran inside to change and steal Jacky-boy's coat while I stood outside, hoping no one would notice me. Of course, I wasn't that lucky.  
  
"Whatcha doin' heah?" I heard Racetrack's heavily accented voice ask me. I remembered his name! Amazing. Anyway,  
  
"None of ya business," I told him mysteriously, but just then Slider came bouncing down. She didn't see Race and I knew exactly what was going to happen then.  
  
"So, ya ready ta go dancin'?" she asked, just like I figured she would. Race snorted behind her. She must have realized her mistake because next she said, "Oh, shit. I'm sorry, Spot."  
  
"S'all right," I said grimly. "Can we just go now?"  
  
"Of course," she promised. When we got a safe distance from the lodging house she apologized once again. I promised her it wasn't a big deal and she let it go, though we both still knew it was a big deal. Soon we were in Central Park. I hadn't seen it at night before, living in Brooklyn you don't spend many nights in the 'Hattan area. Lamps were set up everywhere for light and there was a live band off to the side. Couples were dancing in the romantic moonlight, it was a sight that made me want to kiss Slider. "Heah's ya coat," she said, handing me Jacky-boy's black coat and breaking my silent reverie.  
  
"Thank ya," I told her and slid into it. I looked over her ensemble. I'm not one to be impressed much by a girls clothes, but these were something else. She had a blood red skirt and a black top that somehow puffed out in a way that made her look more gorgeous then she already was. As she turned around I noticed a flash of something on her back beneath her collar. "What's on ya back?" I asked.  
  
"Me back? Oh, dats me tattoo," she said, as if it was the most ordinary thing in the world. She pulled down the back of her shirt to reveal an intricate dragon on her back. "What ya think?"  
  
"Its gorgeous." Then I couldn't help myself, I added, "Just like you."  
  
She looked at me and I could see a smile in her eyes, no matter how much she battled it from creeping onto her face. I smiled back at her. "Want to dance?" she asked, and pulled me into an embrace and started rocking back and forth to the music. She set her head down on my shoulder, and I bent in and kissed her.  
  
I was in love. And it felt good.  
A/N: Alright, its done. That's all folks. Ya know. the whole shebang. Sprite/Mush romance to come soon though. Also, check my other story, Wish Upon A Star. There's some Spottie romance in there too. Once you get to a point.  
  
Raven's Wing: I am supposed to tell you that Slider had nothing to do with the creation of this story and therefore you may not be angry with her for standing him up. And she had a reason. But I am required to say that or Katz (Sli) will kill me. Well, that's all. Hope ya like the ending!  
  
Sprite: Yes, yes. You and Mush next. Ain't you lucky. I need to think of a plot line, but I promise I'll have something soon. Thank you, I am the bestest, ain't I? LOL. No, I'm not. I just have way too much spare time. XD  
  
-Spark- 


End file.
